Unlovable
by BlitzenD
Summary: He didn't belong here. He never had, and he never would. (Prologue added 121903 Rating may change to R later...)
1. Prologue

Author's Note: Sorry, this should have been posted before I posted chapter one, but...well...it wasn't originally going to be a prologue, but I think it works better as one. So, if you read this story prior to 12/19/03, you should read this--it was added then. Thanks for reading! (And thank you to everyone who takes the time to review!)

Prologue

"C'mere kid." The man motioned for the boy to approach his overstuffed recliner chair. "I got something for ya." 

The woman on the couch giggled and looked sideways at her boyfriend, then across the room to where her nine-year-old son appeared in the doorway. 

The boy hesitated, looking uneasy for just a brief moment before he recovered his guarded expression. He glanced back over his shoulder as if looking for someone who could help him. 

"I said, c'mere!" The man's voice had a sharp edge to it this time. "Dumbass..." he muttered.

The boy's gaze lowered to the floor as he shuffled into the room. His brother had, once again, left him to fend for himself as their mother and her boyfriend rapidly grew more and more intoxicated in the living room. "Just stay in your room and you'll be fine," his brother had assured him when he'd asked--_pleaded--to go out, too. But his brother 'didn't want a brat tagging along'. So he'd been left behind. As always._

He stayed alone in his room for several hours. But he got bored. And hungry. But he should have just stayed in his room. It would have been safer.

He stopped a few feet away from the man, reluctant to step within the man's reach. Even from his distance, he could smell the whiskey on the man's breath. And on his clothes. Hell, it smelled as if the man had bathed in it.

"God damn it, c'mere! What are you? Retarded or just stupid?" 

The woman giggled again. "G'on, Babyboy, get yerass over th're," she slurred. "It's Chrissmass f'r gossakes...he jus' wan's to give ya som'fin."

The man gave a hearty laugh as the boy stepped closer. He reached out and grabbed the boy's wrist, squeezing hard enough to grind the bones together. The boy barely managed to stifle a cry of pain and tried to pull away, but the man simply tightened his grip and yanked the boy closer. The boy's heart raced but he forced himself to keep his gaze steady as he looked at the man, who just stared at him, making him that much more uneasy. The man's gaze flicked distastefully down his body, then back up to his face. From experience, he knew that if he showed any of the emotion he was feeling--humiliation, anger…fear-- it would only make things worse. He had to maintain calm.

"God, but you're a pathetic little fucker, aren't you?"

Forgetting for just a moment to keep his expression guarded, his face flushed with shame. He glanced over at his mother, hoping she would maybe stand up for him, but she only sputtered out a laugh at his expense. He really was pathetic. Pathetic enough that even his own mother couldn't defend him. 

He just wanted to get this over with. The sooner the man gave him whatever it was he wanted to give him, the sooner he could retreat back to his room. He should have just stayed there. His brother had told him to stay there, but he just couldn't listen, could he? He was so stupid sometimes. 

He looked back at the man, and tried to maintain his deceptive calm. "You said you had something for me?" he asked quietly, keeping his voice steady and his gaze level. 

Again the man laughed, looking at him as though he were the stupidest kid on the planet. Perhaps he actually was. Sometimes he wondered. He always seemed to land himself in trouble. The man yanked his arm hard, pulling him close so that they were practically eye-to-eye. It took all his willpower not to look away and not to let any fear show in his eyes. Or to let the disgust show as he was nearly overwhelmed by the stench of whiskey and cigarettes. 

"You got to sit on Santa's lap to get your Christmas present," the man informed him silkily as the man's free hand reached out and traced down his jaw with a deceptively gentle touch. 

For a moment, the boy froze, but the sound of his mother's snigger ignited a fury in him. With lightning fast reflexes his free arm lashed out, striking the man across the face. He pulled his arm free with a surge of strength that none of them had known he had. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed in the room. For a moment, there was only stunned silence as the three simply stared at each other in shock. 

Unfortunately the man's astonishment quickly dissolved into rage. The boy was small enough that his strike had really only made noise. Hell, he'd barely even felt it. But it was the principle of the matter. The little shit had hit him. He burst from the chair, grabbing the boy's arms and lifting him from the ground. 

A moment later, the boy found himself pinned against the living room wall as the man screamed in his face. "Stupid little shit! It's fucking Christmas you little faggot!" The boy struggled, unsuccessfully trying to raise his arms to ward off the blows. "Make your mother cry on Christmas?"

The boy stopped struggling and let the blows come. His mother was crying. The boy felt overwhelming shame about that fact. He wasn't even aware of the blows that were connecting with his face, stomach and chest. He was only aware of his mother's loud sobbing.

He was only dimly aware of when the blows stopped and the man let him crumple to the ground. 

"You just had to go and ruin Christmas for your mother..." the man spat down at him in disgust. "I'm outta here." The man grabbed his bottle of whiskey, but stopped on his way out. "You're pathetic. No wonder not even your momma loves you." A moment later a hard soled boot slammed into his ribs. He was fairly sure that he felt something break inside him, but he felt no pain. Except in his heart as he watched the tears drip down his mother's cheeks one by one. 

And then the man was gone.

For a few moments he lay still, almost afraid to move. If he stayed still, he'd be okay. 

His mother knelt beside him, tears staining her face. He forced a smile to let her know that he was okay. He always was. He hated it when she cried.  "Why did you have to go and make him mad?" she asked him miserably.

He laid his head against her shoulder, touched that she was so upset that he was hurt. She really did love him...in her own weird way.

"Now he's gone and it's all your fault." She ran a hand through his hair in a mockery of affection.

"Sorry," he murmured, feeling stupid. Of course that's why she was upset. So it was true. 

He was unlovable.


	2. Chapter One

Unlovable  
  
Not for the first time, all he really wanted was to disappear. He didn't belong here. He never had, and he never would. He knew it, and he knew that everyone else knew it, too, even if they were too polite to admit it. And they never would. Not Seth, who was so desperate for even a small bit of kindness from someone his own age that he'd latched on to Ryan at the first sign of acceptance. Not Kirsten, who really hated it when her sheltered background showed. And certainly not Sandy, who would see it as a personal failure.   
  
They all meant well, Ryan knew, but he also knew that he didn't fit into their life. They were all so. . .happy. He wasn't stupid enough to believe that they didn't all have their own troubles and pains, but overall, they were fundamentally happy. They had a solid foundation to work with. His own foundation had been plagued with termites, he figured. When all was said and done, he was still standing but it would only take a little push and it would all come tumbling down.  
  
"Come on, Ry, don't just sit there. Open it!" Seth was prodding him impetuously. Ryan thought that once the other boy's stack of presents had all (in Seth's words) been looted, his excitement would wane, but he was as enthusiastic as ever.  
  
Ryan forced a smile. He hated being the center of attention, and he wasn't very good at accepting handouts. Gifts, he reminded himself. It was Christmas, and this was a gift, not a handout. Or rather it was Chrismukkuh. He didn't really understand the concept, but it made Seth immensely happy to refer to it as such.  
  
Ryan shifted uncomfortably and looked down at the package in his hands. He couldn't remember the last time he'd received a gift. Something in his gut told him that he didn't want to remember, though he wasn't quite sure why.   
  
He glanced up at Seth and was once again awed by the sheer amount of excitement shining on the other boy's face. Seth nodded encouragingly, grinning enthusiastically. It looked like he wanted to reach out and start helping Ryan unwrap it. Ryan's smile became a slight bit more genuine. He looked back down at the gift and slowly began picking at the tape. No point in wasting the paper. He could use it next time he needed to wrap a gift.   
  
Seth groaned as he watched Ryan slowly unwrap the present. "You're like a little old lady," he informed Ryan, practically twitching with impatience.   
  
"Seth!" Kirsten hissed. He looked over at her questioningly and rolled his eyes as he noticed the disapproving look on his mother's face.  
  
"What?! You're supposed to just rip it open! Making a mess is half the fun!"  
  
Ryan ignored him and continued very carefully unwrapping the package. Partly because he was used to being extremely frugal, and partly just to make Seth squirm. That was much more fun than making a mess. He grinned slyly as he watched Seth getting more and more fidgety watching him. Sometimes it was too easy.  
  
He leisurely unveiled a game that he was fairly sure he'd seen Seth eyeing up not too long ago. He felt a lot better about the gift. It was really for Seth. Sure, it had his name on the package, but he only had Seth's XBox to play it on. It only made sense to leave it in Seth's room for him to enjoy, too. Which he was certain had been the idea when Seth had picked it out for him.   
  
"Thanks!" he called out, hoping he looked appreciative enough. He wasn't sure how to act, really. The fact that the gift wasn't totally for him, set him at ease a little, but he was still quite uncomfortable. But it was over. He'd unwrapped his gift. And since it was his, he'd make Seth wait for at least a week before he could play it. Just to make him squirm more. He smiled slyly as he tucked it under his arm and settled back in his seat to watch Seth start unwrapping his gifts.  
  
"You don't seriously think that's it, do you?" Seth asked incredulously. He shook his head with obvious exasperation. "Come on, Ry! Wake up, this is Chrismukkuh! You do get more than one gift. Remember Santa? Guy with the red coat, several reindeer, sleigh. . .a gigantic bag? Ringing any bells?"  
  
Ryan looked at him with a blank look on his face, feigning ignorance.  
  
"Oh my GOD!" Seth gaped at him for a few moments, oblivious to the small smile tugging at the corner's of Ryan's mouth. "You. . .no, you. . ."   
  
Kirsten had to cover her mouth to hide her amused smile. She knew perfectly well that Ryan was pulling her son's leg at this point. Sandy hid his grin by busying himself with pulling out Ryan's next gifts. Really these should have been opened before the game, since the game surely gave them away, but. . .Ryan looked at the larger boxes uncertainly.  
  
"Go on. These are yours, too," Sandy assured him.  
  
Seth, realizing that he had gullibly been taken in again, stopped his babbling about Santa and began bouncing back and forth from one foot to the other as Ryan uneasily scooted forward in his seat again.   
  
Ryan began opening the second box. He felt a pit growing in his stomach as he recognized the box that was being revealed as he slowly pulled away the paper. An XBox. He looked at the third package wearily. The largest one. He had a pretty good idea what was in it. A television to go with the game console. A very large television. He couldn't accept this. It was way too much. He looked up at the Cohens, hoping he didn't appear too ungrateful. He didn't want to hurt their feelings.  
  
"I. . ."  
  
"Yes you can," Seth and Kirsten both beat him to the punch. Sandy looked slightly bewildered before Seth clued him in. "He was about to say that he couldn't accept it." Sandy looked at Ryan appraisingly for only a moment before realizing that was exactly what Ryan was thinking.  
  
"It's yours, Ryan. You can accept it. It's a gift."  
  
Ryan looked even more uncomfortable. "It's too much. . ."   
  
Kirsten shook her head. "It's not, Ryan. It's really not."  
  
Ryan rubbed his temple for a moment, unsure of what to say. He didn't want to make a big deal, but he really couldn't accept a gift this expensive. He hadn't earned it, and most certainly didn't deserve it. He didn't want to cause a scene or ruin their holiday, but the thought of taking so much from them when he couldn't offer anything in return made him feel sick.  
  
"Ryan, you're a member of this family now," Sandy began the repetitive lecture. Ryan looked up and pretended to listen as the man continued. "I know you've had to struggle for everything, and you're not used to this, but. . .if there's anything you need or want, all you have to do is ask." He paused, clearly searching for the words to say. "We won't always say yes, I mean we don't want you to get all spoiled or anything," the man continued to babble. It was clear where his son got the habit.   
  
"Ryan spoiled?" Seth snorted. He looked ready to continue, but Kirsten hushed him with a look that told him that it was not the time.  
  
"The point is," Sandy got back on track, "we aren't hurting for money. We can afford to give gifts like this."  
  
But Ryan couldn't afford to accept them. He licked his lips nervously, and diverted his gaze down to the carpet, unable to meet their eyes. They didn't understand. "I can't pay you back," he heard himself whisper.  
  
"That's the beauty of gifts," Seth quipped.  
  
Kirsten moved to sit beside Ryan. She felt him flinch away a moment before relaxing against her. She placed one hand on his back and the other rested on his thigh. He tensed again, but she tactfully ignored it. "Ryan, look at me," she spoke softly. She waited until he looked up at her and was struck by the pain she saw reflecting in his eyes. She smiled and kept his gaze. "It really is okay to accept these. You don't need to pay us back. We love you. We want you to have things you might not otherwise have had." Sensing the protest that he was about to make, she continued quickly. "It's not charity. It's. . .family. You're part of our family now. What's ours is yours. We don't need anything in return."  
  
Sure, Ryan thought bitterly, they said that now, but it was going to get old. Them always giving, him just taking. He'd wear out his welcome pretty fast. And sooner or later, there would be a price to pay. Nothing in this world was free.   
  
But he did not want to ruin their day by drawing this uncomfortable scene out, so he forced a smile and gave in for the time being. He would find some way to make it up to them or to give the stuff back. Just not right then. He'd play along for now.  
  
The pit in his stomach got worse as he unwrapped the enormous television, but he did his best to not let his distress show. "Thank you," he expressed his appreciation as best he could. He was relieved when he finally finished unwrapping his gifts and was allowed to settle back and do what he did best: observe the others as they celebrated. 


End file.
